The Year That Never Was
by song-of-a-nightowl
Summary: Martha Jones was the Woman Who Walked the Earth during the Year That Never Was. During that year, she met Sam Winchester. Romance ensues.
1. Chapter 1

Sioux Falls was about as safe as any town in the world, or so Martha had heard. It was in the middle of nowhere, which meant that practically no Toclafane plagued the region. It was more or less on Martha's route to the west coast of the United States. Best of all, she had heard that there was a formidable resistence movement in the town.

If there was any such resistence movement, they were keeping themselves well-hidden. The town seemed utterly deserted. As Martha walked through the streets, she didn't even bother trying to hide herself. The TARDIS key around her neck served that purpose well enough, and even without it there seemed to be no one around to notice her.

The residents of Sioux Falls must have left in a hurry. Front doors were left open and cars were abandoned throughout the town. Martha surveyed all of this with a measure of pity and disappointment. The whole point of her trek was to tell as many people as possible about the Doctor. If Sioux Falls was deserted, then that was a few days out of her year that Martha had wasted.

Just as she considered leaving the town, Martha heard something move a few yards away. She looked around but saw nothing. She grabbed the gun at her side and cocked it, ready for any oncoming trouble. She proceeded warily down the street.

Martha sensed it before she saw it: a Toclafane flew out from behind a building. It headed straight at Martha, but she was ready for it. She aimed her gun and fired twice. Both shots hit the metal orb with a solid 'clunk', but it kept coming. Martha raised her gun to fire again. Then she saw two more Toclafane coming out from the sewers, and she decided to make a run for it.

Somewhere down the street, the brakes of a car screeched loudly. There was shouting, but Martha couldn't tell what the voices were saying. She was trying to run and shoot at the same time, which was proving to be difficult. A well-aimed bullet took down one of the Toclafane; the other two only seemed to be getting faster. Martha turned and focused all of her energy on running.

Up ahead, two people stood beside a shiny black car. They both had large shotguns aimed at the two remaining Toclafane. Round after round exploded from their guns. Martha ran faster, trying to put as much distance as possible between herself and the flying orbs. When she reached the car, she turned and raised her gun into the air. Except nothing was coming; the Toclafane were rolling meekly on the ground.

Martha looked at the people with the shotguns. One was a middle-aged woman with a motherly air about her, and the other was a young man with hair that flopped into his eyes. Martha recognized the young man. In fact, she had met him twice before.

"Sam?"

"Martha?"

They both smiled.

"You two know each other?" said the woman.

"Yeah," said Sam, "We've met a few times before. Ellen, this is Martha. Martha, this is Ellen."

"Nice to meet you, Martha," said Ellen. A southern lilt coloured her speech.

"Pleasure to meet you too, Ellen," replied Martha.

"Let's hop in the car," said Ellen, "We should get out of here before more of those things show up."

Sam politely held open the door for Martha while she climbed into the back seat. Sam got in the driver's seat while Ellen sat shotgun. Sam floored the gas pedal, and the car sped out of Sioux Falls and into more rural territory.

"Where are we going?" asked Martha.

"Home base," said Ellen, "We've heard a lot about you, Martha Jones."

Martha wasn't surprised. As the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, she found that her story preceded her in most of the places she visited. The tale of Martha Jones seemed to have spread like wildfire in these dark times.

"I've heard a few things myself," said Martha, "Rumors say that there's a resistence group in Sioux Falls."

"Not quite in Sioux Falls," said Ellen, "But just about."

After a few more minutes, they pulled into an old car lot. Most of the cars were rusted out or smashed beyond recognition. At the heart of the car lot was an old house. Sam parked the car right in front, and Martha followed the two of them up to the porch. Sam knocked on the door three times.

"Who's there?" someone asked.

"It's Sam and Ellen. And we brought someone back with us," said Sam.

Martha heard the clicking of several locks, and then the door opened a little bit. Through the crack, Martha could see a sliver of a man in a plaid shirt. Then man opened the door all the way, and the three of them stepped into the house. The man in the plaid shirt quickly shut the door again and secured the row of locks. Then Martha realised that she recognised him.

"Dean?"

The man looked up. He looked just as Martha remembered him. He smiled slightly and said, "Well I'll be damned. Martha Jones. Heard a lot about you, though most of that was just Sam."

Sam punched his brother in the arm. He muttered, "Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean quipped. Then he asked, "So how did you find Martha?"

"She was running from a couple of Toclafane," said Ellen.

"And?" said Dean.

"Took 'em straight down," Ellen responded.

"Good," said Dean, "The more of those things we can take out, the better."

Martha hovered on the edge of the conversation as Sam, Dean, and Ellen discussed the Toclafane and the resistence. Martha heard mention of some people named Bobby, Rufus, and Jo. When Ellen and Dean went into another room, Martha pulled Sam aside.

"What is this place?" asked Martha.

"It's … a long story," said Sam.

"I'm listening," replied Martha.

So the two of them sat on an old, worn couch as Sam told Martha about hunting. He told her about monsters and demons, and he told her how his family had become hunters. He told her how when the Toclafane slaughtered a tenth of the human race, the surviving hunters had banded together to form a resistence.

Martha listened intently the whole time. Sam's being a hunter did explain why he had been in that abandoned factory a few months ago. At least, Martha thought it was a few months ago. Since she had been travelling with the Doctor, her idea of time had gone a bit wibbly-wobbly.

"So the last time we met…" said Martha.

"Dean and I were on a hunt, yeah," said Sam, "It was a pretty routine salt-and-burn type thing. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Nothing out of the ordinary?" said Martha incredulously, "Your whole life is out of the ordinary!"

"You're one to talk," said Sam, "The legendary Martha Jones, the woman who is going to save the world."

"I'm not the one who's going to save us; the Doctor is."

"Where is the Doctor? Last time I saw you, you two were in that big blue box."

"It's called the TARDIS," began Martha. Then she told the same story that she had told in countless other cities, towns, and refugee camps. Other hunters came into the room as she told the tale. All of them were eager to know more about the mysterious Doctor and his blue box, and Martha was more than happy to satisfy their curiosities. She talked well into the evening, relating tales of all her adventures through time and space. Someone brought her a beer and a sandwich at one point, and Martha talked between bites. Everyone listened with rapt attention, especially Sam.

When Martha finished, Sam showed her to a room she could stay in for the night. As they walked through the upstairs hall, Martha noticed that the house was one big armoury. Weapons of all kinds were stored almost everywhere, from guns resting on large shelves to knives tucked on top of doorframes.

"You really weren't kidding about being a hunter," said Martha, gesturing to one such stock of guns.

"Yeah, well, desperate times," said Sam with a grim smile.

He held open a door for Martha, and she stepped into a room cluttered with boxes, weapons, and stacks of books.

"Sorry about the mess," said Sam, "This is Jo's room. She's gone out to meet up with a couple of other hunters, and since she's been gone a few days we've been storing extra stuff in here."

"I don't mind," said Martha, "It's the most space I've had in a while."

She sat on the side of the bed while Sam lingered just inside the room. Martha took her gun out of its holster and placed it on the nightstand next to a book titled _Demonology in Medieval Europe_.

"So what about you, Sam?" asked Martha, "I know you told me what you and the other hunters have been up to, but how are you?"

"I've been…good," lied Sam. Martha gave him a look, so Sam sat down next to her and continued. "This past year has just been a lot to handle. My dad, that demon, and now this. There are days when I just want to give up."

"I know the feeling," said Martha, "But you can't give up, not for one second. Because people need you. There's a whole world full of people that you can't let down."

Martha was talking as much about Sam as she was about herself. She could tell that Sam knew it too, because his face was nothing but sympathetic.

"Everyone believes in you, Martha," he said, "The whole world is talking about how you're going to save us all. I know you said that it's the Doctor who's going to do it, but you're just as important."

Martha didn't know how to reply, so she just smiled back at Sam.

"So where are you headed from here?" asked Sam.

"I'm making my way to the west coast, though it won't be a straight route. I want to go to as many towns as I can and spread the word about the Doctor," said Martha.

"Maybe we can help."

"I couldn't ask any of you to put yourselves in danger like that."

"As if we're in any less danger here."

"You'd be in a lot more if any of you came with me."

"We're hunters, Martha. We've been in danger every day or our lives."

"I just…I couldn't. You have to understand that."

"I do. Goodnight, Martha."

"Goodnight, Sam."

Sam smiled and then left. With a click of the door, Martha was alone once more. She curled up beneath the fraying sheets and quickly fell asleep.

Her dreams were filled with her family. The Master was there too; he was always in Martha's nightmares. It was the same nightmare that she had every night: she was aboard the Valiant again, and the Doctor and Captain Jack were being tortured. Her family was in chains, enduring similarly awful treatment. Part of Martha knew it was a dream, but it didn't make it any less horrible.

She opened her eyes. The room was filled with the soft light or early morning. Her nightmare slipped away like an old nightgown. Martha was glad that it was late enough that she didn't have to try to go back to sleep. She slipped on her shoes, holstered her gun, and went downstairs.

Martha wasn't the only one who had woken early. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard hushed voices coming from the kitchen.

"It was a stupid deal and you know it!"

"Oh, so I was supposed to let him die?"

"Well, now we're going to be left with your body instead of his! And a fat lot of use you are to us dead."

"We've argued about this ten times, Bobby. There's no turning back on the deal, so let's just drop it."

Martha stepped into the kitchen. Dean and the bearded man named Bobby looked at her with the air of two people who had just been arguing but wanted to hide it. Martha chose to pretend she hadn't heard anything.

"Good morning," she said.

"Morning," said Bobby.

"Hey, Martha," said Dean, "Sleep well?"

"As well as ever," said Martha.

"Help yourself to something to eat," said Bobby.

Martha thanked him and grabbed an apple from a bowl on the counter. An effect of the past few hellish months was that she had grown accustomed to very small meals.

"So where are you off to next, Martha?" asked Bobby.

"Anywhere west of here," she replied, "I'm heading to San Francisco, but very indirectly."

"We could give you a lift," said Dean, "We got more than enough cars out there and plenty of hunters."

"That's really nice, but I couldn't ask any of you to do that," said Martha.

"Well, good thing you didn't ask then," said Bobby, "I ain't sending you out there without someone to protect you."

"I can take care of myself," said Martha, a little indignantly.

"I'm not saying you can't. I'm saying it wouldn't hurt to have someone watching your back," said Bobby.

"I could take her," suggested Dean.

"Boy, if you think I'm trusting you alone with her," said Bobby, "When it comes to-"

"I'll do it."

Martha turned to see Sam standing in the doorway of the kitchen. She started to protest, but he said, "I'm not letting you go out there alone, Martha."

"Are you sure about this, Sam?" asked Bobby.

"Positive. Dean, give me the keys to the Impala."

"Woah, hold up there, bro. There's no way I'm giving you my baby," said Dean.

"Come on, Dean. This is the woman who's going to save the world; there's nothing more important that the Impala could do. And I promise that I'll protect her for you," said Sam.

"I swear to god if there is so much as a scratch on that car," threatened Dean.

"I know," said Sam.

"What about…you know," said Bobby, "Are you sure that you'll be back in time?"

"It won't take a year to get Martha to the west coast," said Sam, "I'll be back. Besides, I thought we hadn't given up hope yet."

"We haven't, not completely," said Bobby, "But with the Master taking over, the odds of finding a solution are pretty slim."

Martha wondered what they were talking about. But she knew better than to pry into something that was clearly none of her business.

The four of them spent about a half an hour discussing logistics. While Sam went upstairs to pack some things, Martha and Dean went outside to get the car. Now that she wasn't in life-threatening danger, Martha was able to get a good look at Dean's precious Impala. The car may have been from 1967, but it was still glossy and in nearly perfect condition.

"Be good to my baby, Martha," said Dean. He ran a hand along the hood longingly.

"I will, though I think Sam is going to do most of the driving," said Martha.

A moment later, Sam came out of the house carrying two duffel bags. He opened the trunk, and Martha expected Sam to put the bags in. Instead, Sam lifted up a panel to expose a whole arsenal of weapons.

"Bloody hell," said Martha.

Dean chuckled, then he helped his brother check all of the weapons. Sam also pulled a few guns out of one of the duffel bags and loaded those into the trunk too. Then Sam closed the panel and shut the trunk. He tossed the duffel bags into the back seat and explained, "Clothes and other essentials in one, weapons in the other. I grabbed some of Jo's clothes too. They'll probably fit you well enough."

When all the necessary supplies were in the car, Sam said goodbye to his brother. They embraced and exchanged a few parting words. Then Dean came to say goodbye to Martha.

"Watch yourself," said Dean, "There's a lot of weird stuff out there these days. Good luck."

"Good luck to you too," said Martha.

They shook hands, and then Martha got into the Impala. Sam started the engine, and they drove out of the maze of cars and onto the open road.

Martha opened a map. While they drove, Sam and Martha plotted out their route to the west coast. Martha had a contact in San Francisco who would take her across the Pacific, but getting there would be a lot of trouble. After a few hours of planning, Sam and Martha had a workable route across the country.

The sun fell below the horizon and the sky faded into twilight. Still, Sam drove on. The Impala's headlights flooded out into the darkness. Martha noticed that they weren't on the highway anymore. The trees around them grew denser, and the road shifted from asphalt to dirt. She and Sam continued talking well into the night. Eventually, Sam yawned one too many times, and Martha insisted that they pull over for the night. Sam parked the Impala in a copse of trees, and then they both reclined their seats and settled in for the night.


	2. Chapter 2

A few days and towns into their journey, Martha realised that her feelings for Sam had grown to be more than platonic. Once she realised it, Martha began to think that maybe her feelings for Sam never had been platonic in the first place. She remembered the endearingly awkward Sam of the Stanford library years before, and she considered the protective hunter that Sam was now. Yes, she definitely felt a flutter in her stomach whenever he smiled or said her name.

That realisation was quickly followed by another one: Martha didn't feel that same something that she used to when she mentioned the Doctor. Of course, he was still the Doctor, the hero, the protector of planets. But Martha felt that special something quickly slipping away. Perhaps it was the long months of being away from that mad man and his box, but Martha began to question what the Doctor actually meant to her.

In one Montana town, Sam and Martha stayed in a bunker out in the middle of nowhere. The place was packed with more refugees than Martha cared to count. She and Sam wound up sleeping in a small corner on the floor amidst the sea of people, their bodies pressed close together. Sam's arms wrapped protectively around Martha, and she slept with her head on his chest. In that moment, despite all of the pain and misery around them, Martha wanted nothing more than to stay in Sam's arms forever. What she didn't know was that, at that same exact moment, Sam was wishing for the same thing.

The days turned into weeks, and the open road still stretched for miles and miles ahead. Most of the time, they spent the night in the Impala, parked amidst some trees for the sake of camouflage. Sam was too tall to lie comfortably in the back seat, so he slept in the driver's seat while Martha curled up in the back. In the morning, they would wake up to the sun streaming through the windows, and then they would start driving again.

More and more often, Sam and Martha would stay up talking for a while. Even though they talked all through the day, they somehow still had more to say when night fell. Martha simply couldn't get enough of Sam, of his smile, of his laugh. She was also beginning to suspect that Sam felt the same way, though of course she couldn't be sure. Confident and sure of herself as Martha Jones was, her big blind spot had always been men.

One night, Sam and Martha sat in the front seat of the Impala as usual. They didn't suspect in the slightest that that night would be highly out of the ordinary. It all started with Martha teasing Sam about his hair.

"It's so long!" she exclaimed, "If my mum were here, she'd force a haircut on you!"

"I haven't had my hair cut in years," said Sam, "I don't need it!"

"Yes, you do," said Martha, "It's almost as long as mine!"

Martha reached up to tug on Sam's hair. She had a large grin on her face. He did too.

"So help me I'll get a machete out of the trunk," threatened Martha.

"I dare you," said Sam. He grabbed Martha's wrist, as her hand was still in his hair. Then Martha noticed how very close together they were, and Sam noticed too. They both withdrew. Sam coughed awkwardly.

"So, um," said Martha. She deliberately looked anywhere but at Sam.

"So…is the Doctor's hair as long as mine?" asked Sam.

"No, not at all," said Martha, "His hair sort of just sticks striaght up."

"Seriously?" asked Sam, grinning. With his right hand, he pantomimed his idea of the Doctor's hair. "Like, straight up?"

"Yeah," said Martha, "The crazier he gets, the more it sticks up."

Sam laughed. But then it seemed that a thought crossed his mind, and his laughter dissipated somewhat. He ran a hand through his floppy hair and asked, "So were you and the Doctor, you know…"

Martha knew what he meant. She hurriedly said, "No, not at all. He was…he had just lost someone. I don't think I could compare in his eyes."

"But what about you?" asked Sam, "Did you ever see him like that?"

Martha chose her words carefully. She said, "I care about the Doctor a lot, I really do. But I'm exactly where I want to be."

Sam looked at Martha with the slightest glimmer of something in his eyes. Martha felt a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Without meaning to, she found herself leaning closer to Sam. He tilted his head down, and Martha brought up a hand to rest on Sam's cheek.

They kissed. Sam was soft and tender as his mouth moved against Martha's. He rested a hand on her waist, while Martha's hand moved to comb through Sam's so-very-long hair. They moved as close as they could with the gearshift between them. All Martha knew at that moment was Sam: Sam's lips against hers, Sam's hands on her waist, Sam's hair beneath her fingers.

At last they broke apart. Martha' hand fell from Sam's hair to his collar, though his hand still rested on her waist. They looked at each other and smiled.

That night marked a shift in their dynamic. Of course, their daily routine remained the same: they woke up, they drove, they went to a town, Martha told people about the Doctor, and then they drove some more. They slept in the Impala with Martha in the back seat, though now their nighttime conversations were laced with soft kisses. Sometimes, when they went into different towns, they held hands as they walked. It was the little things that changed, and those little things made all the difference.

For Martha, being with Sam felt like the most natural thing in the world. When she had been with the Doctor, she had always felt a pressure to be on top of her game, to be brilliant, and to be ready for anything. But Sam didn't expect Martha to be anything more than what she was. Even through all of the misery and hardship they saw everyday, Sam Winchester always made her feel safe and loved.

As they walked through a little town in central California, Martha was grateful for Sam's presence next to her. Something felt horribly off about this town. There were no people to be seen, but that was hardly out of the ordinary. In most of the places they had visited, the residents had been terrified to walk through the streets.

A clang came from behind them. Martha turned her head to look. A person's head was poking out of a manhole. He looked around, and then his eyes landed on Sam and Martha. He gestured for them to come into the manhole. Martha and Sam followed him into the manhole and then down the ladder into the sewer. Once they put the manhole cover back in place, it was completely dark.

The man pulled out a flashlight and led them through the darkness. He explained, "Once those metal things took over, we all fled into the sewers. We figured flying things wouldn't like it underground. It's kept us safe enough."

Beside her, Sam was looking around distastefully. He seemed to be stepping very carefully, as if afraid of what was on the ground.

"Are you alright, Sam?" asked Martha.

Sam looked down at her. His expression was rather pained, but he smiled reassuringly. He said, "I've had a lot of bad experiences in sewers. Some things leave a lot of really gross stuff down here."

"Like what?" asked Martha.

"Shifters."

Sam didn't have to explain further. He had told Martha enough about shifters for her to understand. Martha, too, began watching where she stepped. She didn't relish the thought of stepping in a pile of skin.

After a few more minutes, they came to a large room illuminated by lantern light. Lots of people were gathered in the chamber, and their voices echoed off of the walls. Families huddled close together beneath frayed blankets, sharing cans of cold food. Sam slipped his hand around Martha's.

About an hour later, everyone was gathered around Martha as she told them about the Doctor. The children listened with rapt attention as they would a fairytale. The adults, too, were hopeful as they listened to the story. This town, like all the others before, had heard rumors of Martha Jones and the Doctor.

The people of the abandoned town offered to let Martha and Sam stay for the night, but the two refused. Both Sam and Martha wanted nothing more than to get back to the Impala. So two of the adults, both armed, escorted the travellers through the sewers and as close to the car as they could get them. The men poked their heads out above first, to make sure that the coast was clear. Certain that it was safe, Martha and Sam crawled out of the manhole.

The abandoned town still put Martha on edge. She couldn't explain why, but she just had a bad feeling. She pulled her gun out of its holster and cocked it. Sam did the same. Neither said a word. As they started to cross the street, there came a clamor from a block or two away. Martha looked up, and her stomach turned to lead.

A massive storm of Toclafane were speeding toward Martha and Sam. Sam fired a few shots before Martha grabbed his arm and pulled him away. They ran as fast as they could toward the edge of town where they had parked the Impala. But the Toclafane were gaining on them quickly. Martha propelled herself forward as fast as she could. The car wasn't far away; she only had to make it a few seconds ahead of the Toclafane.

Sam grabbed Martha's hand, and they sprinted toward the Impala. Martha poured every remaining ounce of energy into her legs. They finally made it to the car, and they both climbed in with seconds to spare. Martha had barely shut her door before Sam floored the gas pedal. The Impala jolted forward, and they fled from the town as quickly as they could. Sam turned the car erratically, hoping to shake off the Toclafane. Soon enough, the swarm was gone and Martha could breathe easily again.

After they drove for a bit longer, Sam parked the car in the woods as usual. They tucked their guns into the glovebox for the night and then moved into the backseat. They held each other close as they considered how close a call that had been.

"Are you sure you're alright?" said Sam.

"Positive," replied Martha.

He brought up a hand to rest on her cheek. "We should never have gone there. Those things-"

Martha silenced him with a finger over his lips. She said, "We're safe. We're here. That's all that matters."

She moved closer to Sam and kissed him. It was soft at first, as it always was. Then her hands wound into Sam's hair, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. She shifted over into his lap as things grew more heated. They had kissed like this before, but tonight, Martha wanted more. Sam did too, judging by the feverish way his hands ran over her body.

Her hands slipped under his shirt and pulled it up and over his head. She ran her hands over his muscles, and he let out a groan. Her head was swimming. His hands were everywhere as his lips trailed eagerly down her neck. Her shirt soon joined his on the floor of the Impala. Her caressed her sides with his oh-so-large and oh-so-warm hands. A shudder went through her spine, and she kissed him again.

The pile of clothes on the floor grew until there was nothing left between their bodies. Sam was too tall to lay across the backseat, but they found a position that worked. Their limbs tangled together, and Martha's hips rose up to meet Sam's. His ministrations were tender and strong, and she melted in his hands. There was movement and moaning and sweat and pleasure and Martha could think of nothing but Sam, Sam, Sam…


	3. Chapter 3

Both Sam and Martha were aware of the fact that their time together was coming to an end. They were going to reach San Francisco in only a few days. There, Martha would board a ship while Sam drove back to Sioux Falls. The thought of leaving Sam behind was almost too much for Martha. Over the next few days, she found herself savouring every touch, every word, every smile that passed between them. She thought back to all of the time that they had wasted at the beginning of their journey, and then to all of the moments that they had shared since.

The day before they arrived in San Francisco, Martha brought up a question that had been on her mind for quite some time.

"Why don't you come with me? From San Francisco, come with me across the Pacific."

Sam shook his head. He said, "I can't, Martha. I wish I could, but I can't."

"I understand that it's dangerous, and I know that you'd be leaving people behind, but-"

"Dean is dying."

Martha froze. Whatever she had expected Sam to say, that wasn't it.

"Oh. Oh god, I'm so sorry. How long does he have?" said Martha.

"A few months left. I don't know what day it is, so I can't be sure."

"What does he have? Is it cancer? Kidney disease? Heart problems?"

"No, it's nothing like that. He's not dying from something medical."

"What do you mean?"

Sam sighed. He explained, "A few months back, just before the Master took over, Dean made a deal. With a demon. He sold his soul, and they gave him a year. When his time is up…"

"Oh," said Martha lamely. Then, "What was so important that he sold his soul for it?"

"Me," said Sam, "I died. A man, his name was Jake, he killed me. Stabbed me in the back, literally. And Dean sold his soul to bring me back."

Martha remembered the conversations she had overheard at Bobby's house. It made sense now. Martha also understood now why Sam couldn't come with her, however much he may or may not want to. He had to be there for his brother when his time was up. Understanding why Sam couldn't come wouldn't help make their goodbye any less difficult, though.

San Francisco was a city like any other that they had visited. People were scared, and they were hiding. Martha told the story of the Doctor countless times all over the city. Even though she and Sam arrived in the early morning, they didn't come to the pier until just about sunset. Martha met with the captain who could take her across the Pacific, and then she came back to say goodbye to Sam. He stood beside the Impala with his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. The look on Sam's face just about broke Martha's heart. They looked at each other for a minute or two, neither of them sure how to say goodbye. Eventually, Sam spoke first.

"Martha, I lo-"

"Don't, please. I can't."

"Oh. I-I thought that you…that we..."

"No, Sam, it's not that. I do, so much. I just can't say it."

"Why not?"

"Because this, all of this, it isn't going to count. The Doctor is going to fix everything. He's going to turn back time to a year ago, before everything went wrong and before I met you. I'll have never come here, and everything that happened between us will be erased. This will all be gone."

"Then let me say it. If we won't see each other again, please let me say it."

"I'll find you again, I promise. I'll find you and all of this will come back. Everything we had…I swear I won't forget you."

"How will you find me again? I don't have an address you can look up."

"Sioux Falls. Bobby Singer. I'll find him, and he'll know how to contact you."

"Or I could give you my cell phone number. My other, other cellphone."

Sam took a slip of paper out of his pocket and gave it to Martha. She looked at it, though the numbers were blurred slightly by the tears in her eyes. She looked back up at Sam.

"This will be erased too. I won't have this paper once the Doctor turns back time."

"Then remember it. Memorize the number, and when everything's fixed, call me."

"I will. Sam…"

"You have to go, Martha. The captain is calling you."

Sam and Martha embraced for the last time. She committed to memory everything about this hug from the creases in his shirt to his musky smell. They kissed, and then they parted.

Martha turned toward the ship and walked away from Sam. She had to keep herself from looking back, because that would only make it harder to leave. It was only the hope of finding him again someday that kept her from running back to him. Because Martha loved Sam Winchester with all her heart, and she would find him again someday.


End file.
